


Old Mc'Shiro Had A Farm

by orphan_account



Series: 14 Days of Lust [5]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (not an actual cow), Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Anal Beads, Anal Sex, Bondage, Breeding, Brothels, Come Inflation, Cow Lance, Dildos, Farmer Shiro, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, People kept as livestock, Plugs, Sexual Fantasy, Somnophilia, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, but not really, intersex lance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-14 10:30:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13588194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: There are parts of himself, and things he wants, that Shiro keeps deeply hidden for the good of himself and his team. But when he wanders into a place promising to let him live out his deepest fantasies with no consequences, and he finally has a chance to let go of the weight he carries, he finds he can't refuse.





	Old Mc'Shiro Had A Farm

**Author's Note:**

> My 14 Days of Lust are a series of kind of interconnected stories that take place in a big magical brothel, where all fantasies are possible. This is Shiro's, which is...well. A lot of things, but basically involves breeding Lance the Cow (not an actual cow, I'm not that far gone just yet.) who has both a cock and vagina. 
> 
> I'm sorry about the title. I couldn't resist! Forgive me.

Shiro awoke blurry eyed and dry mouthed, body a little slow to move and react to his desire to move, and very very confused. Gone was the fancy brothel lobby with it’s well dressed workers and alien clientele and the flirty blond who’d taken his ‘order’ was nowhere to be found. Instead of being in a chair, sipping a drink, he was on a bed. A real bed, so soft he was sinking into it and pushing himself up to roll out was almost more trouble than he wanted to to go through. 

The room was large and bright, huge windows on two of the walls letting in early morning sunlight, with  two walls made of white painted wood and the other two covered in pale cream and green floral wallpaper. There was furniture, the bed with it’s brass head and footboard, covered in thick quilts, a dresser, wardrobe, and bedside table made of heavy dark wood with a matching chest at the foot of the bed. 

He shuffled over to the window to draw back the gauzy curtains and peered outside, eyebrows climbing at the sight of...a farm. There was what looked like a barn close to the building he was in, a single story but built long and wide, painted a cheery blue, save for the two large eggshell colored doors. There were smaller buildings next to that, sheds, laid out in a row in the same blue and white, tall metal silos, and then a large fenced in pasture. 

A farm. 

A farm with a pasture/orchard full of, and maybe the distance was messing with his perception but considering the options on the menu he’d only half seriously selected he doubted that, naked people. At least two dozen, of various heights, builds, some human and some not, all plodding around amongst the green grass, under the early morning sun. A few were hanging around what looked like a trough, down on hands and knees in front of it, and others were curled up in hay piles or under the shade of the trees. 

They seemed, as far as he could tell, pretty content and not at all bothered by their very public nudity. 

Shiro put the curtain back into place and stepped away from the window, acutely aware that he was also naked. Thankfully a quick peak in the dresser and wardrobe revealed a selection of jeans, t-shirts just to the side of too-tight, and worn flannels in various shades of black. He was eyeing a wide brimmed cowboy hat skeptically, and wondering if perhaps his flippant choice of ‘Down on the Farm’ was coming back to bite him, when the sound of a door opening and shutting drew his attention. He was reaching to open the bedroom door but before he could it was swinging open almost violently; he had to jump back to avoid being smacked in the face.   

“There you are!” A familiar voice said accusingly. “Were you planning to sleep all day, or just long enough to avoid having to deal with your spoiled cow?” 

Shiro blinked. “Keith?”

It couldn’t actually be Keith because Shiro had ended up in that weird space brothel all on his own (thank god because he had a feeling some things were going) and Keith was who knew where doing who knew what, And yet the man standing before him was a perfect duplicate, down to the eye roll and the way he stood with his weight shifted onto his left foot when he was annoyed. Then again he’d never known Keith to be into cowboy hats and matching boots (he’d never known Keith to deliberately match anything at all) so maybe not a perfect copy after all, but close enough to be eerie. 

Then again weird space brothel that had popped out of seemingly nowhere promising his greatest fantasy. A likeness to a friend was probably a small matter for whoever was in charge. 

Keith huffed. “Who else would it be, one of the cows?” 

Shiro took about two seconds to decide if he was really playing along with this or not, was he really that hard up, remembered that he’d been in space with only his hand for company for a very long time (and hadn’t been able to trust said hand for nearly as long) and shrugged. “I suppose not. ...is something wrong?” 

“Is something wrong?” Keith echoed, scowling. “That spoiled cow of yours kicked the shit out of my best bull, for starters, nearly broke his knee. I tried to take it slow, let Lance-” Shiro inhaled so sharply he choked on his spit but, when Keith paused, waved for him to continue. “Get a feel for him, see if that softened him up but the minute the bull went in to try to mount-”

Here Keith trailed off and made a few spastic movements Shiro took to be a reenactment of the kick in question. He watched, a smile tugging at his lips in spite of the strangeness of of the situation. Keith must have noticed because he stopped abruptly to point a finger at him accusingly. 

“See, that? That’s why he’s so spoiled. How can you expect him to let a bull mount let alone breed him when he knows you won’t punish him for refusing? You let him up in the house and pamper him and now he thinks he's...a pet, or something.” 

Shiro’s stomach flipped. He looked to the side, unsure if it was the idea of Lance being mounted or the word ‘breed’ that had done it and feeling guilty either way. This space brothel, it seemed, had managed to do more than recreate a scarily accurate Keith but had also managed to drag up certain...fantasies and thoughts that he preferred to not even acknowledge existed because he liked being able to look his teammates (or one certain teammate) in the eye on a daily basis without feeling like a pervert. He wondered how they did it (brain scans? Mind reading?) and why he wasn’t more bothered by what should have been pretty alarmed then, shrugging to himself, set those questions aside for later. 

One crisis at a time. 

He smiled wanly. “Well, what do you want me to do about it? Like you said, I spoil him.” 

In real life it was often the opposite. Shiro was...demanding, rigid at times, with Lance. He didn't mean to be but the harder he tried to keep himself distant the harsher he seemed to come off, with no idea of how to step back and stop.

“Strap Lance to the breeding bench until he’s full enough that you know it’ll take.” Keith deadpanned and there was that fluttering low in his gut again. “Do the job yourself, because I’m done putting up your asshole cow and letting him pummel my bulls.” 

Shiro exhaled hard. “Myself? Isn't that what I keep you around for?” 

"Sure, when your cow isn't a spoiled bitch." Keith looked at him askance then jerked his head towards the door. “Come on. I had a backup plan ready for this.”

The backup plan, Shiro found, involved a cooler full of dry ice and frosted over plastic cylinders, what looked like a very large syringe, and what was absolutely a huge dildo with a hollowed out center that looked just big enough for the syringe and a hole in the tip, and a fat, squat plug. There were more things, cages and clamps and a long string of beads of varying size, blindfolds and blinders, no less than three different kinds of gags, collar and cuff sets in both leather and chrome, a length of black rope that was silky to touch, more dildos and vibrators ranging from ‘small’ to ‘larger around than his fist’, a speculum, and a few other things he couldn’t put a name to. 

He was a little bothered by how much he could put a name to. And by how tight his pants were becoming as he looked it all over. Not bothered enough to look for an exit but bothered enough to hope this was some sort of elaborate VR simulation and that when it was over he could walk away with all this tucked deep deep in his brain where it hopefully wouldn’t haunt him too badly. 

“That is...a lot.” He said said finally, for lack of anything else to say. 

Keith snorted. “Don’t wuss out now Shiro. You signed up for this when you decided to be a farmer and raise a herd. It’s business. Cows need bred and it’s your job to do it, even the ones you like a lot and think are cute.” 

Why did he feel like Keith was edging very close to the line between maintaining the fantasy and reminding him that he was the one who’d arranged said fantasy to begin with and that it was time to get to it?

He cleared his throat then nodded jerkily. “And how do I-”

“It’s easy. Get him on the bench, strap him down, then warm him up however seems best; one of the aids, manually, fuck him yourself.” Shiro wheezed out a startled breath. Keith ignored him. “After he’s good and loose, and isn’t trying to get away, you fill the syringe, put it in the applicator-” A gesture to the huge dildo. “Insert and push the plunger. Empty all four into him, plug him up, send him back to his stall.” 

Shiro pointed at the cooler. “And is that-”

“Milked four of my best of my group this morning.” Keith said, patting the cooler. “Something will take. I’d say you owe me but one of the calves and drinks on you next time we go out should cover it.” 

Shiro continued to eye the cooler. “Right.” 

Keith either didn’t notice his hesitance or was choosing to ignore that too because he picked up the cooler and turned his heel, heading for the screen door that lead out to the rest of the farm. “Gather up what you need and come on then. We’ll get the shed set up and then you can grab Lance.” 

Shiro considered the items on the table then, with a resigned sigh, began to pick and choose. 

\---

Lance was...well. He was Lance. But also not Lance. 

He was in the barn, settled in a stall that had a handy wooden plaque with his name carved in it tacked above the door. Shiro reached to pull the door open then stopped when his eyes fell on the younger man splayed out in a pool of sunlight, flicking through a book (which answered a nagging question about ‘cow’ intelligence that had been worrying Shiro. Fantasy or not he drew the line well before sex with animals was even a consideration.) He’d chanced across Lance undressed in the shower room a handful of times and had always told himself he wasn’t actually looking all that closely but he found himself able to notice and catalogue every small change in the bare body before him. 

Lance’s hair was a bit longer, untamed and falling around his face in loose ripples, and sunbleached to a lighter brown in places. One of his ears was pierced with a flat blue, rectangular tag with the letters ‘LNC’ on it in thick black and ‘Shirogane farm’ just below that in smaller letters, and wrapped around his left bicep was a tattoo that said simply ‘Shirogane’ in plain block letters. Beyond that, Lance was a bit...fuller, all over. Bottom lip thicker, plush and left slick by the tongue poked out over it, more weight to his limbs, adding curve and thickness to calves and thighs. Heavier around his hips and stomach, ass rounder, and the barest hint of a swell to his chest.

And then there was the fact he had a vagina. Being sprawled out like he was had Lance’s intimate parts were all but on display, allowing Shiro’s eyes to zero in on...everything. He still had a cock, flaccid at the moment and boasting bits of silver, one silver ball right at the head, snug against the opening, and another coming from just below the head and below that, instead of balls, was a sparsly haired slit. 

“Farmer Shiro.” Lance said, a familiar wary note in his voice as as he tossed his book aside. Shiro jumped, gaze jumping up to Lance’s face guiltily. “Are you here to yell at me for kicking Farmer Keith’s bull? Because I didn’t even go for the balls this time or kick Keith; I think I deserve a little credit for that show of restraint, don't you?” 

Shiro tried to smother his smile and schooled his expression into something serious. “Keith is upset. He says that was his best bull.” 

“Farmer Keith is a tool.” Lance deadpanned. Shiro coughed to cover a snicker but Lance’s cheeky grin told him he’d failed. He coughed again then shook his head, clearing his thoughts. He was here for a reason and it was best to get on with it, let the fantasy play out.   

“Maybe he is, but you’ll have to apologize anyway. He’s over in the second shed, working.” Shiro said sternly. 

Lance made a face but rolled to his feet at Shiro’s behest. Shiro flipped the latch on the door, opening it up for Lance. The younger man strode out without a word, thought he did look up at Shiro through lowered lashes as he brushed past, something in the way they fluttered and his lips tilted up bordering on coy. To say nothing of the way his hips and the generous swell of his ass swayed as he walked ahead of Shiro, exaggerated and maddeningly alluring. Or the way muscle rippled under dark skin, strong and lean and begging to be looked at when Lance’s arms rose above his head in a lazy stretch. 

Shiro swallowed, trying to pull some moisture back into his suddenly desert dry mouth. It wasn’t right at all for this version of Lance to move like that, teasingly sensual, while looking like he did. 

Keith was waiting in the shed, just where Shiro was left him and the gathered supplies. There wasn't much to the shed, all told. A large free standing sink, a metal table Shiro had laid out his things on, and what Keith had identified as ‘The Bench’. It was a surprisingly simple set up, all black painted wood and leather, elevated off the ground. There two lower, cushioned platforms on one side, angled away from each other, and the main body of the bench. The rest of the bench was raised higher and consisted of a single, also cushioned, element. It was higher in the back then sloped downward just a bit.

Keith had already lead him through attaching cuffs, black fur lined leather ankle and calf ones on each of the lower platforms and wrist and arm ones that attached to the main body of the bench. 

Lance paused almost as immediately on entering the shed, eyes zeroing in on the bench. A suspicious look flicked over his features. “What's that?” 

Keith was bent over the large free standing sink, running water into it. The cooler sat, open, at his feet. He looked up when they stepped inside and, as Shiro pulled the door shut behind them, shut off the water and rubbed damp hands down the front of his jeans. 

Lance looked between them, lips pressed into a thin line. Shiro could all but see the light bulb go off in his head, saw him stand up straighter, stuffer. “I'm not letting one of his bulls mount and hump away at me for all of thirty seconds before falling asleep, like they do the other cows. Shiro, I don't-" he stopped, mouth twisting and eyes flicking over to Keith then back to Shiro before his voice lowered. “I’m not doing it. I'm not.” 

Keith grumbled something that sounded like “Who ever heard of a picky cow?” And shot Shiro a very plain ‘do something’ look. They'd discussed this and Shiro wasn't sure he liked the plan but it seemed to be, like everything else, part of the fantasy. 

Shiro licked his lips again then reached out to put a hand on Lance’s shoulder to steer him towards the bench. Lance didn't move; to the contrary he seemed to root himself in place, a stubborn set to his jaw as he focused on Shiro fully. 

“No.” 

“Lance, its breeding season.” Shiro said, an attempt at being reasonable. Lance scowl said he didn't care. Keith moved at the periphery of Shiro’s vision but he made himself ignore it. “What if I promised no bulls?” 

Lance didn't get a chance to answer. Keith had managed to get close enough and, just as Lance realized it, his hand darted out to jab a syringe into the meet of Lance’s shoulder. Lance gasped, eyes wide and betrayed, then lurched away all of two steps before his eyes were rolling back and he was going limp. Shiro jumped forward and managed to catch him just before he hit the ground. 

“Hurry up and get him onto the bench.” Keith said, turning around to drop the syringe into the cooler. “That's fast acting, but it doesn't last long. Five, maybe ten minutes and then he’ll wake up horny. ...and angry, I guess.“ 

Keith added ‘angry’ like it was an unfathomable inconvenience. It was, absurdly, so much like how Keith reacted to Lance most of the time (confused, bewildered, looking to Shiro to explain why Lance was the way he way) that he had to laugh. Keith fixed that blank but somehow annoyed look on him again, spurring Shiro to action. 

Moving Lance was easier said than done. Lance was heavier than he looked and was all long flopping limbs but with help from Keith he managed to get him onto the bench and strapped in. He felt guilty almost immediately, even as Keith clapped him on the back and told him he’d done a good job. Mostly, he was forced to admit to himself, the guilt was because Lance looked so good, strapped down on the bench. The black leather looked nice against his skin and the way he was positioned, legs spread and strapped to the lower platforms, arms cuffed to the side of the bench, back side pushed up high, had that fluttering heat returning to Shiro’s stomach. He could have just stood and stared, committed the image to memory, and been happy. 

Guilty for enjoying it enough to be half-hard in his pants and rapidly becoming more comfortable with the scenario (it wasn't real after all. Just a fantasy he'd ordered up and would not let himself think too deeply on the why's and what does it all means until later.) 

“The vials are coming up to temp in the sink, but it’ll take at least thirty, forty-five minutes. Should be enough time to get him ready.” Keith announced, stepping back from the bench. “Remember, the more warmed up he is, the better he'll breed. Get him off a few times and its basically a sure thing.”

Shiro nodded and, with that said, Keith left them alone. The sound of the door shutting after him was oddly loud and final; Shirl jumped minutely at it. Then, breathing out slowly and telling himself to be calm down, looked down at all the items on the table. He’d taken the time to clean the table, wiping it down with alcohol wipes and then rinsing it thoroughly, and all of his ‘tools’ before setting them up next to each other, in neat and tidy rows, arranged by size and color, and placing a large bottle of lubricant and box of latex gloves in the corner closest to the bench. Keith had seemed amused by his set up process but Shiro didn’t really see the harm in wanting to to have everything he needed arranged for easy use.

He went over everything again, as well as the instructions Keith had given him while he was setting up, then glanced at Lance with a sigh. Was he over thinking things? He did that often, even when he told himself to just go with things and accept them as they came. It was a sentiment easier said that followed for him, who’d always had to be completely in control and aware of situations. But this was supposed to be a fantasy, a way to ‘leave the world behind’ and have the freedom to do the things he wouldn’t ever allow himself to do, according to the man who’d greeted him at the brothel. 

Lance was still out and he’d told himself he’d wait until he was awake before doing anything but… He knew it was wrong. It wasn’t what a good person would do, because Lance was knocked out, tied down, well and truly helpless and unable to defend himself or get away. But Shiro wanted to touch him, to have him while he was like that.

He hadn’t really been a good person since the arena and, maybe, this was proof. 

He moved to stand between Lance’s legs, still within arms reach of the table, eyes taking in what was laid out before him. He touched his ass, smoothed his hand over the generous curve from top to under, where he squeezed. Lance didn’t stir, not even when Shiro smacked first one then the other cheek; not hard enough to leave any color but enough to make them bounce. 

He swallowed thickly as he ran a finger down the cleft of Lance’s ass, spread by virtue of the position he was in, to rub against his asshole. The dusky pink ring twitched under his touch then, when he pushed against it, opened up for him with little resistance. His body was slack, much of the tension

Shiro picked up the flexible rod of beads and, after smearing a generous amount of lube on them, pressed the smallest ball, about half the width of Shiro’s thumb, to Lance’s entrance. The barest press and it sank past the wrinkled ring, swallowed up by Lance’s body. The next two went much the same but the fourth took a little more effort, need a firm push before it popped into Lance. A rest of the ‘string’ needed help; a bit more lube and working the rod back and forth moved the next few in and then Shiro used his fingers, pressing against the sides of Lance’s rim and spreading him open. With his other hand he wiggled a finger into Lance along side the beads hard, pressing against fluttering walls to loosen the other man up further. Lance was making soft, sleepy sounds and squirming when the last ball, a good inch and a half wide, sank into him. Shiro let him go, tongue dragging over his lips as he watched Lance’s hole shrink back around the last length of the rod, leaving over the finger loop free. 

He waited for a moment to see if Lance was awake or just starting to come around and, when the younger man stayed silent and unmoving, Shiro moved on.  

He touched Lance’s cunt next, thumbed along the seam once, twice, before parting damp folds further. He stroked a finger tip over Lance’s clit, warm and stiffening under his touch, then drug it down to press into him. He was tight and hot inside, hole soft and spongy around his finger and already starting to drip with slick. He worked his finger in deeper with smooth, fast thrusts, working the tightness from the wet sheath until he could curl a second one inside. He watched, almost hypnotized by the sight of his fingers, thick, scarred, knobby from break and healing so many times, thrust in and out of the stretched, pink hole. 

Lance’s body jerked and a breathy exhale made him look up again, leaning to the side just in time to see blue eyes fluttering open and plush lips parting around a groan. Lance’s eyes stayed fogged over with sleep a few seconds longer and then awareness flooded them, making them go wide. He tensed up; Shiro could feel him go tight around his fingers and saw the muscles in his back flex and bunch. 

Lance yanked at the arm bindings and his legs tried to kick out. a noise of distress sliped free from his lips when he realized that he was trapped; he twisted around as best he could, eyes misty a they locked on Shiro. “S-Shiro? What- No! I don’t-” 

Shiro patted Lance’s flank soothingly. “It’s just me. Just you and me, no bulls.”

Lance’s brows furrowed even as his breath hitched and his hips swayed back onto Shiro’s fingers. “No bulls?” 

“No.” Shiro twisted his fingers, curled them up searchingly. Lance jerked again then shook hard, gasping wetly as his eyelashes fluttered. “I’m going to breed you myself. Is that okay?” 

It was a long, tense second before Lance visibly relaxed, shoulders unbunching and curled toes and fingers straightening out. “Okay.” 

**Author's Note:**

> There's some hints at Shiro having some...issues, with himself, and if this was a real story I'd explore them and how indulging in a little consensual, 'darker' kink might be good for him as far as embracing what he thinks are the 'bad' parts of himself. But this is just smut so all we can do is dream. 
> 
> Part 2, with all the porn, is about half done but I must move on to my other 14 days prompts. I will come back around to this soon tho, with plans to work on it whenever I have a free moment.


End file.
